So, recently, I finally wrote the beginning-(ish?) of a story I've been writing pieces of a while. This is the rough draft, but I really need to know... is this worth continuing? Here goes:
“Hey, Kay !”
Oh my word. What was Benji, the object of all my fantasies, doing here?
He cleared his throat, loudly, but didn’t say anything.
“Go ahead,” I prompted him, after he continued to stand there, staring at me blankly. “Ask me out.”
He splurted, making a funny kind of dying cow sound from his nose. Too soon?
  “I’m just here for some strawberry icecream…” he choked out through hysterical laughter. His idiotic minions joined him, making it seem as if I’d just proposed we stick our toes in mud and cover them in pretzels.
“Dash it all.” I muttered. Loudly.
“Excuse me?”
  “One strawberry cone, coming right up. Uh… sir.” Even in a situation like this, Father*some name* would kill me if I was rude to a customer.
  I shuffled over to the icecream machine. I might as well just go crawl in a hole, as that was where my already nonexistent social life was heading.
  “I’m just here for strawberry icecream,” I mimicked. I never knew he was such a snob.
   I was awoken from my seething by icecream dripping down my hands and plopping on my poor, unprepared toes. Crush. I could already hear the snickering.
Public humiliation, here I come!
  “Is that for me?” someone asked from over the counter.
“Yes, you incorrigible jerk-face, if you’d like.” I turned to glare at my persecutor, instead finding myself face to face with serenity embodied.
“I would like it very much, thank you.” The snickering behind him stopped as Benji and the goons stared in wonder at this blindly beautiful idiot.
In awe, I handed it to him without a word. What can one say to a person like him?
As he walked out of the store, he called, “The name’s is Christiano, not jerk-face.”
  Thus, I met the beginning of my story. I barely even saw his face.

Last edited by carefreegirl01 (2013-06-11 02:35:24)